


I'll Crawl Home to You

by withthekeyisking



Series: Dick Rare Pair Challenge [14]
Category: Forever Evil (Comics), Grayson (Comics)
Genre: BAMF John Constantine, BAMF Zatanna Zatara, Bruce Wayne's A+ Parenting, Depression, Dick Grayson Gets a Hug, Dick Grayson Has PTSD, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Post-Forever Evil (Comics), Protective John Constantine, Protective Zatanna Zatara
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:48:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27046744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withthekeyisking/pseuds/withthekeyisking
Summary: Dick is exhausted. He's spent a year undercover in an evil spy organization, and now that he's home his family is angry with him and his partners are off on some mission, and he just wants everything to stop.When Zatanna and Constantine return, they find Dick not in the best state and quite a few issues they have to take up with Batman.
Relationships: John Constantine/Dick Grayson/Zatanna Zatara
Series: Dick Rare Pair Challenge [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1836145
Comments: 56
Kudos: 403
Collections: Dick Grayson Rare Pair Challenge





	I'll Crawl Home to You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RUNNFROMTHEAK](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RUNNFROMTHEAK/gifts).



> Happy birthday, my friend! I happily feed your OT3 😁
> 
> This is gonna be split into two chapters because my computer had a glitch and erased quite a chunk of the story, but I still wanted to give you something on your actual birthday, so I hope you enjoy chapter one, and chapter two will be out soon! 💜
> 
> Title from _Work Song_ by Hozier

When Dick enters the apartment, it is dark and quiet.

He stands in the doorway, frozen, feeling strangely like he doesn't belong in the space. It's odd; he lived here for over two years and yet one year away has him feeling out of step, like this isn't his anymore. He hasn't been living in it, after all. Two other people have. Two other people have been eating breakfast and watching TV and taking showers and _living,_ and he's been...away.

He almost turns around and leaves. Zee and John aren't here, he can tell that easily. Everything is too quiet, too _still._ There's always such a presence to the pair of them, makes it impossible to miss them if they're near. But this...they haven't been here in a little while. A mission, maybe? Justice League Dark, probably.

Does he have the right to enter when they're not home? This is...this is _their_ home, not his, not anymore. He died. He left them. They must've moved on by now. He wouldn't blame them.

But Constantine's wards allow him in easily, the same way they always did. They don't stop him from entering like they're supposed to with outsiders. So his presence is not _not_ wanted, at least.

If they want him to go when they get back, then he'll leave. But he supposes he can take the guest room for now. He doesn't really have anywhere else to go, anyway. A safehouse, he guesses, but the idea makes his skin crawl. He's spent a year bouncing from impersonal room to impersonal room, and he just wants something _familiar._ He wants it so desperately that it almost burns.

But his family doesn't want to see him. They won't let him explain. They're angry.

Zee and John probably will be, too. He left them, after all. They knew he was alive, but he _left them._ That's almost worse than thinking he died permanently. You can grieve someone you lost, but being _abandoned_ is an entirely different kind of pain. Dick would know.

He has to force himself to enter the apartment, to close the door. He walks mechanically through the living room, trying to not let his gaze get caught on the photos on the wall, on a carton of Constantine's cigarettes, on Zatanna's tarot deck spread out on the coffee table, the one Constantine bought her at some ridiculous carnival for a buck.

It all reeks of _home,_ and makes longing lodge in his chest, tightening his lungs and making it difficult to breathe. He averts his eyes and quickens his steps to the guest room, shutting the door quickly behind him.

With a quiet sigh he sets down his bag and kicks off his shoes, then shucks off his jacket and climbs into bed fully clothed, too tired to do more than that. He curls up in a tight ball, pulling the sheet and blanket up over his head. Then he closes his eyes and does his best to calm himself, to ignore the stinging in his eyes.

Pure exhaustion is the only reason he gets to sleep. It doesn't stop the nightmares.

* * *

The next morning, his whole body aches. Everything seems to crack when he stretches, and it draws a wince out of him.

He can almost hear John's voice in his head, teasing him and then offering to soothe some of the aches from a harsh patrol. He can almost feel Zee press a comforting kiss to his forehead and stroke back his hair.

But they're not here.

He shouldn't be either. It's probably really selfish of him to force himself back into their lives. He should give _them_ the option, allow _them_ to reach out if they want to see him. But going to their apartment? Actually staying there until they get back? That's not fair to them. They're good people, they wouldn't want to just kick him out. He's just going to be an imposition.

He can't bring himself to leave, though. The idea of going anywhere else makes him feel so...helpless, so _despaired._ He doesn't want to be anywhere else. He wants _them._ And he wants them to want him, too. Though he knows he might not get that, not anymore.

When he takes a shower, he uses Zatanna's fruity smelling shampoo, basking in the familiar scent. He feels a little more human afterwards, a little more _alive_ than he did the night before, but it's still so oddly _quiet_ in the apartment.

He turns on the radio just to break the silence, trying to focus on the catchy pop song currently playing. There aren't really any perishables to make something to eat, but he freezes when he opens the cabinet and finds a box of insanely sugary cereal waiting.

It's his favorite brand. It hasn't even been opened.

His throat clogs while he pours himself a bowl, and he curls up on the couch, flicking on the TV to a random station and watching the actors on it blankly as he eats his cereal dry. He can't resist the urge to grab Zee's fluffy blanket sitting on the end of the couch and pull it around himself, smiling instantly when he breathes in the smell of John's cologne.

Checking his phone shows no one's reached out, which hurts even though it's not surprising. They have every right to be angry. He wishes they would let him explain, let him tell them how he had no _choice,_ but they get to be angry. He understands. He'd be upset, too. Of course, he was really just _relieved_ when he learned Jason was alive, he didn't get angry at him for letting them think he was dead for _years,_ but that's—it's different. So.

He falls asleep, at some point.

He wakes up screaming, feeling Luthor's hand on his face, suffocating him all over again.

* * *

Dick spends two days in the guest room before the urge becomes too strong and he finds himself crawling into their bed, pulling on one of John's shirts and breathing in the lingering scent of them left on the pillows.

He still wakes up from nightmares, but he falls back asleep much sooner, greedily taking advantage of their space to feel better. Maybe they won't still want him here whenever they return from their mission, maybe they'll want him out, but at least he can enjoy this while it lasts.

On the fourth day, he gets a text from Bruce requesting his help with a case. He immediately gets a follow-up text from Tim telling him that they have it handled and he doesn't need to make the trip to Gotham.

Dick pulls the covers back over his head and doesn't leave the bed at all for the rest of the day.

* * *

Zatanna is _pissed._

It has been five days since the wards around their apartment told John that Dick was home, and the pair of them have spent the entire time _waiting_ for the ability to go back to Bludhaven, to set aside this stupid mission and go see Dick for the first time in a _year,_ but the stupid world decided that _now_ is the time to face what basically amounts to a magical apocalypse which requires both her and John to be present and at the top of their game.

She doesn't feel at the top of her game. She feels _pissed._ Because she shouldn't have to wait, neither she nor John should be anywhere other than their apartment with the man they both love, the man they've been missing for so long.

Unlike the rest of the world, Zatanna and John knew that Dick was alive. That he might've died when the Crime Syndicate got their hands on him, but that it wasn't a permanent death (and truly, who could be surprised? Bats have a nasty habit of resurrection). They'd known because Dick still wore the charmed necklace when he went wherever he went. The one they gave him that could act as a distress beacon if he ever needed them. A distress beacon that could only be used by him.

The magic would've faded away if he'd truly been dead.

Neither of them knew _why_ he left, where he went, why he didn't say goodbye. But they knew Dick well enough to know that whatever the reason, it was a good one. He left because he _had_ to, not because he wanted to. He'd never leave them, not in that way, if he had a choice. They knew whatever it was, was important.

So they stayed silent. For a year, they kept it to themselves. Let the world mourn, let his _family_ mourn, holding on desperately to the fact that the charm was still active, that Dick was out there somewhere, alive. That he'd come back to them eventually. They only had to wait.

And now he's back, he's _home,_ and Zatanna can't go see him. She can't hug him like she's been wanting to for so long. Can't _yell_ at him, like she's been needing to. Can't do anything at all, because a group of _fucking_ _sorcerers_ couldn't do the decent thing and postpone their attack until Zatanna and John had been allowed their reunion.

By the time everything is over, it's been seven days since Dick set foot in their apartment for the first time. Zatanna and John have never moved faster than they do to get home to him.

He's on the couch when they arrive. Asleep, a blanket wrapped around him, hair curling against his forehead with a dampness that indicates a recent shower.

It's amazing to see him, so amazing that it takes Zatanna's breath away for a moment, stuns her to the core that he's really _here._

"Oh, luv," John murmurs, gaze fixed just as firmly on Dick as hers is. "You're a right mess, aren't'cha?"

Now that John's pointed it out, Zatanna can see it. The dark bags under Dick's eyes, the slight hollowness to his cheeks. The tension in his face and body that speaks to an unpeaceful rest. How tightly he's curled in on himself, infinitely small in a way Dick Grayson should never be.

Zatanna is the one to move forward first, breaking whatever had fallen over them to remain still. She crouches by Dick's head and gently brushes her fingers through his hair, a faint smile tugging at her lips when she smells her own shampoo. John perches on the edge of the couch by Dick's hip, placing a hand on his side.

Dick twitches slightly under their touch, eyebrows furrowing, and then his eyes flutter open. The gorgeous blue of them is hazy with sleep, and it clearly takes him a couple moments to focus on her, to realize who's there with him.

Recognition makes him suck in a sharp breath and blink rapidly, and he pushes himself upright, the blanket falling down to his waist.

"Hey, stranger," John greets, the corners of his mouth tilting up. "Long time no see you in my clothes."

He is wearing John's shirt, Zatanna realizes. The large one, far too big on _both_ the men, but that John tends to enjoy wearing to bed when he's not stark naked.

Dick glances down at himself as if to confirm what John said, and then his cheeks redden for some reason. Dick's never been embarrassed about wearing _either_ of their clothes, so the reaction is definitely strange. But what's even stranger is the way Dick draws back from them, pressing himself into the corner of the couch as far as he can get.

Zatanna and John move back slightly as well, giving him some room. If Dick doesn't want to be touched for whatever reason, then they're certainly not going to force it, despite how badly Zatanna wants to hold him. He looks so exhausted—fuck, when was the last time he truly slept? Has he been running himself ragged this entire year?

"Hi," Dick says. His voice is soft but almost _stilted,_ and his eyes flick between them with something resembling nervousness. Zatanna doesn't understand it. "It's...hi."

"It's really good to see you," Zatanna cuts in, unable to stand this stiltedness anymore, the strange way Dick is acting. He's clearly hurting, but Dick hasn't felt the need to pull away from them during bad times in quite a while. They'd moved past that, reached a place where Dick truly _trusted_ them to be himself around.

But it has been a year. A year of something probably stressful, and probably lonely. Maybe things aren't the same anymore.

But he came here. He came home, to their apartment. That's got to count for something.

"Can I hug you?" Zatanna asks, deciding to be blunt. Either Dick will say no and they can move from there, or he'll say yes and she can finally get him in her arms after so long.

Dick stares at her with wide eyes for a moment and then nods wordlessly.

She doesn't waste any time, moving to sit on the couch next to him and then pull him into her arms, pulling him tightly to herself. Her eyes slide shut and she lets out a shaky breath, tears pricking her eyes. He's actually here. He's actually here, and in one piece, and everything else is going to be okay.

John scooches over, not one to be satisfied with being left out, and wraps an arm around them both, pressing a kiss to the crown of Dick's head.

"Hell if it isn't good to have you back," John breathes, and that's when Dick begins to cry.

Zatanna swallows back her own urge to do the same, instead stroking Dick back and holding him close, keeping him steady as he breaks apart in their arms, shaking, his hands raising to cling at them almost desperately.

"I'm sorry," Dick gasps out. "I'm—I'm sorry, for leaving you, I'm—it wasn't—"

John shushes him. "It's alright now, we understand. You're alright, Dickie. We've got you now. We've got you."

Questions and explanations can wait until later, after they've all been allowed to enjoy being together again, after Dick's let out whatever demon is inside of him and remembers that they'll always be here for him, no matter what.

For now, Zatanna pulls the blanket up around the three of them and murmurs soothing nonsense, happy to do it until the tears dry up.


End file.
